


Four Dates and a Wedding

by knesk



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: AU, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-15
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-21 04:01:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/593213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knesk/pseuds/knesk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Demyx and Zexion were perfect together. They didn't expect to be--nor did Axel, when he set them up--but, they were. Their first date was comfortable, their second clumsy, their third calm. The fourth date will be remembered forever, and the wedding would be sweeter than either had expected. Overall, they were happy with each other, and all it took to be that way was four dates and a wedding.</p><p>(This is just a fluffy little piece following Demyx and Zexion's relationship as it flourishes. And, I'll tell you right now, the wedding is not <i>their</i> wedding. It's just a wedding they attend.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the First Date: an obligatory exposition concerning names, jobs, and personal relations.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (The whole thing was Axel's idea, of course. "It'll be fun," he said, breath heavy with the smoke of a cigarette. "I know just the guy.")

The First Date was at a cafe. It was a quaint, homey little thing that had windows adorning every wall, stretching from floor to ceiling to happily broadcast the place's inner workings. It smelt of coffee and people and was mostly brown and cream on the inside, but streaks of orange were placed about to break things up. Demyx stood by the door, tapping his foot away in an even beat while his eyes carded through bunches of people sitting adjacent to bunches of people. His mystery date supposedly had a curtain of lilac hair that was draped over one of his striking cobalt eyes, but Demyx knew nothing more about him. 

(The whole thing was Axel's idea, of course. "It'll be fun," he said, breath heavy with the smoke of a cigarette. "I know just the guy.")

Zexion was doing the same from a comfortably secluded corner, gaze catching on all of the blonds as he sorted through face after face. It took him a moment to see Demyx, hair standing tall just as he was told it would. ("He's a lanky motherfucker with this crazy mullet-mohawk-thing going on with his hair. You can't miss him," Axel had insisted, his face twisted in a wicked smile.) Their gazes clicked together and the blond offered a wide grin that stretched against stark teeth. Zexion raised a hand, but made no other move.

Jogging over, Demyx greeted, "Hey- uh.." He let his eyes slide over the notecard he held and he continued, "Zexion, right? Pretty name."

"Thank you. I'll assume you're Demyx?"

The blond nodded and Zexion curtly copied the action. Demyx pulled a chair back and settled into the table, eyes ghosting over a menu. He had to keep himself from staring daggers into Zexion's face, chest, arms, everything--he had this intoxicating look to him, something Demyx had never seen before. (He was quite appealing, physically, but there was more to it than just aesthetics). Nonchalance was practically leaking from his pores, but he seemed completely alert and aware of everything despite it. It was bizarre, but in a way that was charming--alluring, almost. Demyx wanted to stare at the boy for hours, watching thoughts work behind his eyes, spinning about like clogs in a watch. He feared he was teetering on the precipice of too creepy, though, and opened his mouth rather than stare at Zexion any longer.

"So...we're supposed to, like, get to know each other, right?"

Zexion nodded, absently sipping at his cup of tea. He’d hardly made a move to express himself in any way, but Demyx wasn’t very bothered by it. His lack of conviction paired with that air of charming nonchalance was enough to get Demyx interested in him.

"Well, I'm Demyx- but you already knew that." A light chortle interrupted the sentence, fluttering out like sunshine. It was a natural noise that crinkled the corners of Demyx's eyes, and Zexion couldn’t help quirking a brow at it. "I'm a guitar tutor at the music shop down the street. I used to be, like, a violin prodigy, but then I grew up."

Zexion set his cup down to look at Demyx fully, his head cocking ever so slightly as a look crossed over his face. The gaze was curious, but piercing, and overall very intimidating. "A violin prodigy teaching guitar. Hm. Do you miss performing?" He asked it lightly, expression growing content. Something about the blond was...different. Good. Very, very, inexplicably good. He was completely golden--figuratively--and his sincere happiness made a glorious noise that didn't sting Zexion’s ears, like most laughter did. His smile was pretty and contagious and Zexion feared that if Demyx was light (and he was,) then Zexion was the moth that would invariably be drawn to it. 

Surprise widened Demyx's eyes before he said, "Well, actually, I still perform. Just not violin. I sing at a lot of open mic nights around town, and I’ll sometimes play at parties and stuff. I'm trying to get noticed, I guess." That smile stretched across his teeth again, and Zexion found himself copying the expression, if not to a smaller (nearly invisible) degree.

"I see. If I’m so inclined, I may catch a show one day."

Demyx readied to say something, but a waiter came by to ask for his order. ("Just a coffee, thanks. Two creams, please--no sugar, no I'll be fine without. Thanks.") When they were left alone again, the blond propped his chin up in his palm and asked, "So, what's your story? What do you do?"

Zexion faltered, his body briefly going stiff. He didn’t expect conversation to turn on him so quickly. "I...work at Spectrum Health.,” he forced out, quickly adjusting to the surprise. “I'm a CRNA."

Demyx raised an eyebrow. "What's that?"

(Curios- most people just accepted the letters, nodding along with glazed eyes. No one usually cared to find the meaning behind them.)

"Certified registered nurse anesthetist."

Demyx took a moment to process the words, letting them soak into his mind and gather meaning. "Anesthetist? So, you like, drug people up before surgery and stuff?"

A short laugh (really very nearly a snort, actually), fell out of Zexion’s mouth and he nodded. "Nurse anesthetist, yes. I fear my explanation of the position may not hold such elegance, but essentially, you are correct. I ‘drug people up before surgery and stuff.’”

The waiter brought Demyx his coffee and they settled into a bit of silence while each party sipped at their drinks. The conversations of people around them drifted about, teasing their ears with the half-sentences and unfinished thoughts of stories they couldn’t be concerned with. They drank their respective drinks and let themselves grow accustomed to the foreign presences of each other, both so different, but somehow similar. Only a brief moment had passed when, as anyone could have guessed, Demyx cracked the silence open again.

"So, how do you know Axel?” he asked. “He did set this whole thing up, after all."

Zexion quirked a brow, but his tone was even and normal when he spoke. "I tutored him in English, oh...three years ago? Yes, that's right. After a few months of it, he decided I made a decent companion and the friendship stuck."

Demyx offered a flutter of laughter and said through a grin, "That isn’t too surprising."

"May I ask the same question?"

Demyx stuck his tongue between his lips, wetting them as he thought for a brief second. "Well...he used to work at this bar, Rocky's. I started going after a nasty break up and he noticed me drowning my sorrows. We got to talking, and well...we never stopped, I guess."

Zexion hummed through a sip of tea and nodded along lightly. "You're fortunate to have such positivity come from a bitter parting of ways."

(Briefly, so briefly, Zexion internally cringed at the rush of memories, of orange hair and quiet nights, of the warmth of another body pressed against his own.)

Demyx grinned, but there was sadness in it. "Definitely, yeah."

Zexion bobbed his head along absently (it was an almost-nervous habit that he found himself doing whenever he had nothing else to say.) He took one last head-tipping sip of his tea and set the cup upside-down (another habit, this one a bit more inexplicable) and he leaned back in his chair.

Shortly after, something Demyx had with him started to beep and he made a mess of an apology, saying he had a lesson to teach soon and should leave. They split their small bill and Zexion let him go with little fuss, scrawling his phone number onto a napkin and promising they'd go on another date soon. He was rather shameless while watching Demyx leave, his eyes glued to the ass that looked impossibly wonderful in those tight jeans. (Demyx pretended not to notice the reflection of Zexion's stare in the glass door as he left, but found he couldn’t help the smile that stretched across his face.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The cafe they're at is made up, but Spectrum Health and Rocky's are both real. I live near Grand Rapids, (in Michigan,) and they're both in that area. Fun fact: I don't think Rocky's is still open, but it used to be famous for selling alcohol to minors, which is why I picked it for Demyx's old hangout. (I'm pretty sure they got busted for that, though.)
> 
> Also--as the description states, the last chapter will be at a wedding, but I haven't decided who's wedding yet. I'm thinking Marluxia and Vexen, just 'cause I like them, but if you'd like to give some input on who should be wed, don't be afraid to comment.


	2. the Second Date: a tentative session of I-like-you-but-can't-show-it-well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zexion had to consciously ignore the way Demyx's breath felt so hot, so tempting, against the shell of his ear, because that sort of thinking was dangerous on a casual second date, and Zexion didn't want to somehow ruin their budding relationship.

The Second Date was at the movie theater, roughly two weeks later. ("Whenre we gonna go on that 2nd date you promised," Demyx texted after ten days of agonizing silence. He got a reply mere seconds later- "I'm free tomorrow.") They were seeing a comedy that was supposed to be great, but both parties were a little weary about it. It seemed like the kind of movie that you couldn't think about too much without ruining it, and Demyx and Zexion both (though Demyx to a much lesser degree) tended to over analyze just about everything.

They met at the theater- the Second Date was far too casual to warrant one party picking the other up- and Demyx graciously paid for two tickets before Zexion could argue (and he would have, had he the chance). They were early enough that previews hadn't started yet and they got good, centered seats despite the healthy number of people filing in.

"You need not have paid for me, but it was a kind gesture," Zexion said lightly, leaning towards Demyx so he might hear better. If he was honest, Zexion would rather have paid, (for both of them, really,) but he was flattered that he didn't have to.

Demyx grinned and Zexion vaguely realized he had missed that daffy smile. "Aw, it was no problem. I’m just happy you agreed to see me again."

The corner of Zexion's mouth poked up and he slid his gaze to the screen while mumbling, "The pleasure is mine."

They settled into an almost-comfortable silence, watching the string of pre-preview advertisements flash across the screen. Zexion folded his hands and scanned through his head for something useful or witty to say while Demyx slouched, mentally thanking the gods he hadn’t messed anything up yet. 

After a moment, he turned to the blond with an eyebrow raised. "What made you decide on this particular movie?" he asked lamely.

Demyx blinked, his blond eyelashes glinting oddly in the light from the screen. "Hm? Oh- I dunno, really. One of my buddies said it was good so I figured, why not?"

Zexion nodded, humming in response. He combed his fingers through the swatch of hair over his face and lazily pushed it behind his ear while the lights dimmed and actual previews began to play, flashing colors and clips dramatically across the screen. He settled into his seat and put an arm on the armrest between him and Demyx in hopes of being subtly closer to the blond without seeming overzealous.

The movie kicked on and after a few minutes Demyx leaned in (as close as he possible could) and huskily whispered into Zexion's ear, "Can I hold your hand?"

(Zexion had to consciously ignore the way Demyx's breath felt so hot, so tempting, against the shell of his ear, because that sort of thinking was dangerous on a casual second date, and Zexion didn't want to somehow ruin their budding relationship.)

He turned to Demyx with a lilting hum, blinking a bit while he processed the request. When the meaning clicked, his lips quirked into a happy smirk and he pushed the armrest up so they could link their hands (the intimate way, with their fingers intertwined,) and Demyx gently knocked their heads together in affectionate gratitude. Zexion smiled at the gesture and his chest swelled with fondness when he realized how easy it was to be happy around Demyx. 

In the end, the movie wasn't as bad a Demyx worried it would be (Zexion even chuckled very quietly at a few lines,) but he almost wished they'd seen something else. The comedy didn't give them the most romantic atmosphere, despite the handholding, and Demyx really just wanted an excuse to get cuddly with his beautiful date. Zexion, though he would never admit it, harbored the same feelings. Despite any disappointment they may have had, though, they left the theater hand in hand, smiles plastered over their lips while they made small talk.

"What'd you think?" Demyx asked, raising a brow at Zexion.

Zexion looked forward, sifting through his thoughts, before bringing his eyes to Demyx's and saying, "I believe my favorite part was when you asked to hold my hand."

(His tone was plain and straightforward and anyone else would be bashful at admitting that, but not Zexion. No, he was completely composed, his words serious and truthful.)

Demyx flushed and a nervous smile stretched over his teeth. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I'm glad I did, then. I almost didn't for fear you'd say no," Demyx admitted, his reddened cheeks turning a bit brighter as he let out a nervous chuckle.

Zexion laughed and it was a smooth, inky sound that spilled out of his lips like waves from the ocean. "That would have been horrible," he agreed. "How would one even refuse something like that? 'Actually, I would prefer if you didn't hold my hand, thank you.'"

Demyx laughed, nodding. "I know, right? Like, 'Sorry, but I don't hold hands on the second date. You'll have to wait until next time.'"

The two let out breathy, almost-laughing sighs as their last few chortles bubbled out and settled into silence. They'd almost made it to the parking lot when Demyx slid his hand out of Zexion's and threaded his fingers through the back of his hair.

(The sudden lack of contact made Demyx ache in an anxious way, but he ignored that.)

"So...call me crazy," he started, "but I'm not really ready for this to end. Wanna grab a bite to eat? My treat."

Zexion had hardly processed Demyx's words before snorting and proclaiming, "Oh, no you don't; you paid for the movie, there's no way you're getting dinner, too. If anything, we will split the bill."

"Fine, fine," Demyx sighed, waving his hand around. He wasn't prepared to argue, and in all honesty, he was running a bit low on cash. He'd have trouble with his rent if he paid for them both. "Where do you want to go?"

Zexion frowned in thought. "I've no preference, really. Have you any suggestions?"

Demyx copied Zexion's expression and tapped at his lip while he thought. (Zexion absently noted that the gesture was cute, in an odd, domestic way.) "There's a sandwich place I like downtown. If you wanna hop in my car I can take you."

Zexion made a positive remark and they made their way to Demyx's car, both itching to link their hands again but neither making the move. They piled into the slightly dilapidated vehicle when Demyx pointed it out, and he was quick to flick on the rattling heat to combat the outside air.

"Sure is getting cold. I already miss summer," Demyx mused, aiming a whimsical smile at the road.

"We've got quite a bit of Winter left, yet. It'll be something of a wait until summer," Zexion chided playfully, his visible eyebrow poking up toward his hairline. Demyx let out a single, dark laugh. (It sounded wrong coming out of his mouth, like a dog trying to meow.)

"I know," he said flatly. He took a moment to blink away whatever had come over him and his smile returned while he said, "Enough about that, though. D'you have to work tomorrow? You're a nurse, right?"

Zexion faltered, but answered, "Er, yes. To both inquiries. Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering if it was wise to get you drunk. If you're working, though, I better not."

Zexion's mouth quirked up and something in the back of his mind noted that it'd been months since he last smiled so much. "Yes, I think it may be better if you didn't."

("Not that I don't want to get drunk with you," Zexion wanted to say. "I would love to get drunk with you. I wish I could get drunk with you. Why don't we anyway?")

They settled into a comfortable silence and Zexion quietly contemplated what might happen if he were to throw caution to the wind and get sloshed with his bubbly companion. He was pretty certain he'd lay a few sloppy kisses on Demyx, if not anything worse, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. It might open a few doors in their relationship, cement a few labels into place. Zexion couldn't do that, though; he was too careful, too concerned. It wasn't in his nature to do anything unwise.

(Demyx, however, made unwise decisions regularly. Unfortunately, in both minds, he was too weary of wrecking anything between him and Zexion to actually goad the nurse into drinking.)

The restaurant had a much different atmosphere than Zexion had expected. It wasn't a particularly large building, but because of the arrangement of tables, the place looked very open and spacious. Its floors were hardwood and abstract paintings lines all of the walls, giving it an artsy, but classical look. It was nice. (Zexion had expected something more...boisterous, especially knowing Demyx. This quiet little bar was a nice surprise.)

They ate peacefully and had the smallest of talk (the weather was even mentioned again, though this time Demyx kept his composure) and overall, they were both happy with the way things had turned out. As Demyx drove back to the theater, he slowly grew more and more aware of his happiness, and how much of it was caused by Zexion. It was an odd realization, and he wasn't sure what to do about it. He had never been good at initiating relationships.

When they found Zexion's car and pulled up beside it, Zexion faltered. He didn't want to simply leave, promising another date and nothing else. He let a smile pull at his lips and told Demyx, "Thank you for a great time."

Before Demyx could respond, Zexion gave him a peck on the cheek and climbed out of the car. (Demyx, though caught off guard, couldn't resist watching Zexion make his way to his car, his ass looking overly perfect as he walked. The blond rubbed his kissed cheek absently and decided if Zexion wasn’t claimed as his, and soon, there would be serious consequences.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've no idea what movie they saw, but they had dinner at a place called the Winchester. It's in the same area as Rocky's and Spectrum Health, as mentioned in Ch.1


	3. Part One of the Third Date: mutual reassurance through verbal communication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Demyx I’ve something to ask you,” he began.

The Third Date was cut into two parts. Instead of communicating through text this time, Zexion called Demyx; (the blond was delighted he wasn't the one to initiate it. It cemented into his mind the idea that Zexion liked him just as much as he liked Zexion). It was only a few days after the Second Date, but both parties were anxious to meet a third time.

"I was wondering if I could see you again," Zexion drawled into his phone's receiver, his tone deceiving just how anxious he was feeling. (A cold fist was clawing at his heart, coaxing its beating to a faster pace.)

Demyx's voice was bright as ever on the other end. "Of course," he assured. "I'd love that! I don't work Saturday, if that works for you."

Zexion mentally perused through his calendar, checking days he worked or had plans. "I'm on call Saturday, but we could still do something casual. I'm rarely called in, but in case I am, I'd like to avoid anything too...fancy, I suppose. I'd hate to go to a nice dinner, only to leave you there."

Demyx paused. "Well...we can always go a different day. It doesn't have to be Saturday."

Zexion sighed and he sounded rather defeated when he admitted, "I'd like to go on Saturday, though. Work and other plans keep me from doing anything sooner, as well as anything shortly after. I believe the only other day I could make it would be...at least a week away."

(Though neither voiced it, they silently agreed that seven days was too long of a wait.)

"Well, Saturday it is, then," Demyx conceded with a small laugh. "What'd you wanna do?"

"That...is a very good question. Do you want to just...go to Subway or something? Maybe find a party to crash?"

A bubble of sudden laughter crackled through Zexion's receiver and he could hardly ask what warranted it before Demyx sputtered, "Did you...did you just suggest we crash a party?"

Zexion blinked, confusion bleeding into his train of thought. "Er, yes, I did. Why is that so funny?"

"It's just, that sounds so weird coming from you. I'd expect you to say something like, I don't know, 'we could attend an established celebration,' or something. You've got such a huge vocabulary it's weird to hear you just say 'let's crash a party.'"

Understanding clicked into Zexion and he let out a light laugh, though it was nowhere near as hearty as Demyx's. "I see. Well, would you like to 'attend an established celebration,' or would a cheap lunch better suit you?"

"I think I'd rather have the cheap lunch. I'll meet you at the Subway on 54th, Saturday. Does about ten o’clock sound okay?"

"That sounds fine. I’ll see you there."

As agreed, they met up at Subway--Zexion arrived precisely as the clock chimed, but Demyx was considerably (and predictably) later. Zexion didn’t mind; he needed the time to group his thoughts up and calm down. His mood wasn’t as bright as it'd been in the past, but he was still looking forward to seeing Demyx. After all, if anyone could wipe away the stress weighing on his shoulders, Demyx could.

“Hey there,” the blond greeted, the door swishing closed behind him. Zexion looked up from his book, cobalt eyes meeting beryl in lieu of greeting. He was the only one in the restaurant, sitting at a secluded table, a sandwich wrapped up and untouched on the table before him. “I’ll join you in a minute, just let me order.”

Zexion nodded, eyes slipping back to a sentence he’d read three times over since sitting. It was unlike him to have such trouble digesting the meaning of the words his eyes scanned over, but he let that troubling fact simmer away as he tucked the book into the bag set next to him. As Demyx came back around, sandwich and soda in hand, and Zexion propped his chin up in his palm and readied to pose a question.

“Demyx I’ve something to ask you,” he began.

The blond slid into the booth oppose Zexion and offered a light hum in response. (Inwardly, every nerve in Demyx’s body started to revolt; his heart jumped to his throat and his hands grew colder than they ever should grow. His ribs felt like they were closing in while his heart expanded. He could tell something was clicking away behind Zexion’s pale eyes, and he was afraid of what it could be.)

“We’re on date,” he continued. “We’ve been on dates. We aren’t actually dating, though, are we? We aren’t in a relationship, I’m not your boyfriend, you’re not mine.” He lifted his head as he spoke and laced his fingers together on the table’s surface, adding (mostly as a side note), “Hell, I’ve kissed you on the cheek and done nothing else.”

Demyx fidgeted, fingers closing in just a bit too tightly around his still wrapped sandwich. “Why...do you ask?”

A bit of a laugh erupted from Zexion and he leaned further forward, brushing back his hair so that he could stare into Demyx’s wide stretched eyes with both of his own. He curled a finger in, beckoning Demyx forward. When the blond obliged, Zexion took his chin in his thin fingers and brought their lips together, pressing them in a soft and chaste kiss. He drew back a moment later, but kept their faces just inches apart, their breath hitting each others mouths and cheeks while they waited in a slightly flustered stalemate.

Voice in a near whisper, Zexion blinked slowly and explained, “I ask because I’d like to date you.”

Demyx brought their mouths together again, not caring to mask the urgency as he pushed himself as close to the other as he could, table digging into his stomach as he moved his lips with Zexion’s. (Everything within both of them exploded with feeling; they were equally ecstatic to have finally come together and neither wanted to stop. Their fingers harbored sparks of heat and slight anxiety, their toes curled from the sheer joy of being together. Just a dumb kiss had them both feeling warm all over and happier than they had in ages.)

They broke apart and Demyx gave an awkward little cough. “I’ve..uh...I’ve got a car if you’d rather--”

“No, no, I think I’d rather eat," Zexion interjected, cool and collected on the surface, but frazzled and anxious beneath it. "I think it'd be best if we ate," he reiterated, adding, "Not that I don't want to kiss you, because I do want to kiss you. I just don't want to get caught in too awkward of a position if and when the hospital calls and needs me to leave."

Demyx nodded, understanding clicking into his head (though he was disappointed despite it.) "Oh, right," he said, words curt and chopped. "You're on call."

Zexion gave him a guilt filled smile. "My apologies."

Demyx unwrapped his sandwich, and staring at it, asked, “So...we’re dating?” He took a bite to avoid adding anything to the statement. (He tried not to choke on the food, but it was very hard not to.)

A smirk curled over Zexion’s lips. “You didn’t give a really concrete answer, but yes, I’d like to think we are.”

They shared a smile, both too wide and pulling painfully at their cheeks, Demyx’s a bit funny to look at because of the food he hadn’t yet swallowed. Zexion chuckled at the image and bit into his own sandwich, trying not to laugh through the food. They stayed like that for a while, silently beaming at their food with reddened cheeks, both overly happy and needing not to voice it. 

In an attempt at small talk, (anything other than the growing silence that, though comfortable, was stretching a bit too long) Zexion swallowed a mouthful and posed, “How’s work?”

His bite a bit too big for his throat, Demyx struggled to force the chunk of sandwich down in order to say, “Good, I guess.” He wiped at his mouth (something at the back of his mind poked at him, told him to feel self conscious, but the voice was quiet and he mostly ignored it) and he settled his elbow on the table, scratching at his face absently. “It’s kind of boring. I’ve been itching to perform lately, everything else just seems...blah. I don’t know. I should be glad I have work, that I have money...but...I just feel like I’m doing this because I need to, not ‘cause I want to.”

Zexion nodded, face growing solemn. “I can understand that. You should perform if you feel so strongly about it.”

Demyx shrugged. “Not many places will take me. It’s not as if I’m well known, and I don’t really like to fuss with sign ups. It’s not a big deal.”

Zexion frowned--it was an odd inversion of his smirk, like the expression was flipped downward and absolutely nothing else about it changed--and put down his sandwich to express just how serious he was. “Demyx, if you want to perform, you should perform. Don’t dismiss your wants so easily.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Demyx offered, a conflicted smile pulling at one side of his mouth. He took a bite of his sandwich and chewed it in silence. (He was happy someone cared to encourage him, but he wasn’t used to it. He didn’t know how to respond, didn’t know what to say.)

Zexion smiled, small, almost consoling. They were quiet for a moment, and then his bag started to buzz and he groaned. “Guessing that’s the hospital,” he drawled as he dug through his bag for his phone. He made another noise of discontent when the caller ID confirmed his fears. He answered, had a short conversation with the nurse in charge of calling him, and looked apologetically to Demyx. “I’m afraid I’ve got to go,” he lamented.

Demyx hastily put his sandwich down and waved his hands about while he struggled with the bite he’d taken. “No, no, that’s fine. Duty calls, ‘s not like it’s your fault.”

Zexion let his smile widen and he packed up the remainder of his food and shoved it in his bag, standing as he did so. He slung it over his shoulder and, loosely cupping the back of his neck with his hand, asked, “I don’t want you to get the wrong message and think I don’t like kissing you because I really like kissing you, but would you hug me before I go? I think I’d like that.”

(He choked over these words as they came out because they seemed much less ridiculous when they reverberated around his head. As the spilled from his lips and he heard them spill from his lips he felt increasingly more moronic.)

(Demyx found it endearing.)

“Yes, yes, of course, yes,” Demyx sputtered, banging his knee over the table as he tried to stand. He wrapped the entirety of his lanky limbs around Zexion and pressed their chests together. Zexion placed his hands on Demyx’s shoulder blades, the touch light and noncommittal. They stayed there for a minute, happy, and then broke apart. Zexion walked out the door and went to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW HELLO BEEN A WHILE HASN'T IT


End file.
